school girl crush
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: Rose is in love with her professor, and she doesn't quite know what to do about that.


_**Written for the 'February Femslash Competition' by percychased.**_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 965, every breath. **_

_**Written for the 'Duct Tape Competition' by lezonne, using **_Red: The color of temptation and seduction, so write about something tempting

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by she who is made of stars, using Institution: Durmstrang or Beauxbatons. **_

….

It is a schoolgirl's crush, Rose tells herself, but she can't help the way she feels in the same way that a bird can't help its desire to fly. She wakes up from dreams of Professor Brown, who always calls her into her office for _extra lessons _that always seemed to end up with the two of them lying on the floor, their clothes thrown far off where Rose couldn't see them anymore.

(Things couldn't have been more different in real life, though, where she continued to play the good girl, the innocent girl, the well behaved, prudish young Ravenclaw. She is well behaved, in the school's eyes.)

Rose has considered telling her mother the truth, begging to transfer to another school-Durmstrang, maybe, or Beauxbatons, because she's only a fourth year and it's certainly not too late-because she needs to get out, she needs to get away, but even the idea of confessing the truth to her mother feels shameful and painful, and she isn't ready to face the questions, the odd looks.

(She is terrified that her parents will no longer love her if she ever tells them the truth, that she likes girls, and that she more importantly likes her forty year old professor.)

She doesn't even know if Professor Brown notices her, not when she has hundreds of kids in her classroom every day, students who are brighter and bolder and so much brasher than Rose. They grab Professor Brown's attention, and Rose shrinks into the shadows, studying in the hopes that Professor Brown will notice her. She wanted a word of admiration from her teacher, a sign of recognition, a connection between the two of them.

(The only thing she things that could make her life complete is a small kiss from Professor Brown, just to feel the older woman's lips on hers, even for just a brief second.)

Rose doesn't care that Professor Brown is nearly three times her age, or a teacher, or that her parents would freak out if they knew; she thought she was in love, and for a while, she probably was. Professor Brown was beautiful, even for a woman of forty, with long brown hair and nicely tanned skin that made her look ten years younger. Rose didn't feel like she learned much of anything in Professor Brown's class, too distracted by her teacher's looks.

(Rose knew Professor Brown used to be married, once upon a time, but she isn't now, and Rose can't help but dream that it is because Professor Brown was waiting for someone truly special.)

It's not fair, Rose tells herself, that the one person she had to fall in love with is so ridiculously unattainable. It's not fair that her heart is dancing for her teacher, when Rose's practical mind is screaming out warnings to _stay away, stay shut, _and _get out_. She just wants to feel Professor Brown's body next to hers, but it is ridiculous-Rose is ridiculous, a child with dreams so far out of reach.

(She tries so hard to ignore the school girl crush that feels like it is consuming her, some days, filled as she is with the desire to just confess to the whole world about how she feels deep down inside.)

And she tries to keep herself under control, keep herself quiet and hidden, but she cannot forget that it is Professor Brown's face that she sees in her dreams, and her voice that seems to guide Rose through her day as she struggles to pretend that everything is normal, that she isn't in love with her teacher. It hurts so much, pretending like she's normal, like nothing happens to her whenever Professor Brown is in the room. Every breath is painful around Professor Brown, but Rose pretends like she's fine.

(It's a lie, of course, but Rose is almost becoming used to the lies, the excuses, the mistakes she makes in class just so Professor Brown will call on her after class, gaining a few more stolen minutes.)

Rose Weasley was in love with her teacher, and she was too afraid to tell anyone; she was too afraid to admit the truth and get her hopes up only for their inevitable collapse. Rose Weasley was in love with her teacher and she was never, ever going to say a single thing about it until she was old and grey and Professor Brown was dead, because Rose would rather be miserable than be rejected.


End file.
